Cabin in the Woods
by WorldInvent
Summary: Author Sarah Williams has exiled herself to a remote cabin in the woods in hopes that nature in late fall glory will break her writer's block.  No real distractions to be had.  Except a very unexpected Goblin King.
1. Chapter 1

_Here's a bit of fluff in honor of the beloved, highly commercialized, excuse to eat sweets Valentine's Day. A little something to help with my highly romantic thoughts, seeing as other stories aren't quite so... well, fluffy. Each section will be short and sweet.  
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**1**

The road climbed the side of the mountain like a giant side wider snake. Sarah maneuvered the car through the switchbacks at a steady fort miles an hour. Slow enough to see the scenery yet fast enough not to waste the day light. She glanced at the horizon: the mid afternoon sun was setting the fall leaves aflame, the entire hillside burned as a light breeze rippled through. It was incredibly beautiful. She eased into another turn.

Her Aunt Gladys had lent her the family log cabin for a whole week of seclusion. It would be good for. Complete isolation in the great outdoors with no distractions was what her career needed right now. Last year Sarah had experienced a substantial amount of success as a young adult romance writer. There had a mini book tour, several hundred autographed copies, and then a whole lot of pressure from the publishing company to succeed their expectations on book number two. Her deadline was fast approaching to turn in at least a first draft of something. Cautiously she glanced at the satchel on the passenger seat. It contained a lap top with an empty hard drive. Sarah Williams was facing sudden doom as a failed author if this week proved fruitless.

The switchbacks stretched out to smooth road as she crested a hill. Up a head a small village came into view. Under Hill was only civilization around for miles, and it lived up to its Tolkien reference with a few cottages surrounded with seasonal gardens and a stable offering pony rides. It was as quaint and romantic as her Aunt Gladys had promised. Out of the handful of buildings one was a service station, offering two gasoline pumps and inside a variety of dry goods. It was there with the store's owner, a Mr. Gaudfrey, that Sarah would pick up the key to the cabin.

A bell jingled as she pushed the door open. Inside there was the lingering scent of burned wood and fresh baked bread. A man with silver grey hair was handling a bakery display. "Hello there," he said his voice as warm as the fresh bread. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Gaudfrey. I'm Gladys Williams' niece."

"Ah," he said in understanding. "I'm Ike Gaudfrey. Pleasure. So you must Sarah Williams?"

She nodded.

"Yes. Gladys said we should be expecting you some time today. Just a moment, the key is behind the counter."

Mr. Gaudfrey moved away from the baked goods and walked further into the store. Sarah followed him while glancing around. At a long counter Mr. Gaudfrey opened a register and retrieved a set of keys. "The silver one is for the front door," he explained. "The copper one is for the wood shed. I do hope Gladys told you to come prepared: food, necessities?"

"I have a cooler with some meat and vegetables in the car," said Sarah. "But that bread smells amazing. I would love a loaf."

"I'll convey the compliments to my wife then," said Mr. Gaudfrey with a smile. "Won't be any good without butter." He opened a near by cold case and brought out a white Tupperware container. "You should like this. Comes from one of the near by dairy farms. Not that this is Amish country," he hastened to add while obtaining a hefty looking loaf of bread. "You'll have working electricity and running water up at the cabin. I do believe Gladys even had Wi-Fi installed last year."

"Thank you."

Having paid for the food and picked up the brown paper bag she turned to leave. Mr. Gaudfrey called after her, "Oh and be sure to stock up the wood inside the cabin now. There's a possibility of a storm moving in."


	2. Chapter 2

2

After a drive up a two mile dirt road the cabin rose into sight and what a picturesque place it was. Sarah's Aunt Gladys had described the place as a step away from roughing it, its amenities were sufficient to keep the rain and wind off of you nothing more. What Sarah beheld though was more of a retreat to be found in some luxury foothills or as part of an extended day spa that celebrities frequented. There was a well tended though small front yard. Someone had been up to sweep the front porch free of any leaves and to even set out two festive pumpkins, one on either side of the entry way. Sarah got out of the car and scoffed. "Roughing indeed," she said out loud. "Always knew Aunt Gladys was a bit eccentric."

She grabbed a travel bag and headed up to the front door. There was a note affixed to the door knocker. Apparently the closest neighbors were back down the dirt road and then another three miles over: the Olstens tended the property for Gladys while she was away or would tidy up right before visitors. If Glady's niece needed anything all she had to do was dial the number twentytwo on the foyer phone and they would be at her disposal. Inside the place smelt as if someone had been baking apple crisp all day. The wood floors were polished and the mantles and tables were all dust free. The furniture was a colorful display of reds and oranges with hints of blue and white. Fresh linens were laid out in the master bedroom, and the master bath which was a suite unto its self, was stocked with towels, bath salts, and other pampering items.

Sarah was pondering the use of a remote control she found on the sink's counter top when she heard the phone ringing. It was her Aunt Gladys. "Sarah my dear, there you are!" she exclaimed. "I started calling an hour ago."

"I got on the road later than I expected. Aunt Gladys this place is gorgeous!"

"When one retreats into the country, one should retreat in style. I am sorry about the lack of refreshments around the place though there should be some bottled water tucked under the kitchen sink. Did the Olstens come 'round?"

"Yes. The place sparkles. It's all very inspiring."

"I am glad to hear it. And you know that Mrs Olsten or Mr Olsten can be at the place in half an hour if you should need anything."

She wouldn't. Sarah was prepared for the isolation. But she also knew that her aunt had fretted about her being alone in the middle of the woods.

"Auntie, I will be fine," she assured her.

"Well, I didn't tell you before, but you should know that I keep a small hand gun in the bedroom."

"Auntie!" exclaimed Sarah in surprise.

"It's in a lock box. They key is in the side table's drawer. It's just in case, my dear. In my fifteen years of owning the place I've never even so much as loaded the thing, but it has always been a comfort to me all the same."

Sarah made a face. "I wouldn't even know how to use it," she mumbled.

"At least take the walking stick with you if you go out," said her aunt. "It's leaning next to the front door."

Indeed there was a blonde wood pole leaning in the corner. One end was gnarled and resembled a club. One good whack from that could break a wrist or disorient someone or something. Sarah looked out through the windows and saw a sea of trees. She was on nature's door step. More than man, she had wild animals to be concerned about.

"You're right," she said after a pause. "A stick I can handle."

"Call me or you're parents regularly enough," said her aunt.

Making promises she knew she might easily break Sarah said a few reassuring phrases and hung up. She had one back up plan for security.

She moved back into the master bedroom. There was nothing in the room that could give away her exact location. The shutters were fastened obscuring the outdoors. She went up to the bathroom mirror, and rising her left hand said, "Through the mists and through the veil, I call forth my friend Hoggle." Lightly she touched her fingers to the glass. Immediately the surface rippled and her reflection disappeared as the glass fogged over. When it cleared a grumpy looking old man in a poet's shirt stood next to her mirrored image. "Hello Hoggle!" she said brightly.

"Aw, there ya are," he replied with a huff. "Was wondering when you's would call."

"Yes, well, here I am. Take a good look Hoggle," she said glancing around. "This is your room of passage."

"A bathroom?"

"Look we discussed this at length before I left. I need to be alone, and if I gave you a more specific location Didymus would be crawling through the glass to stand guard every night."

Hoggle chuckled. "If I didn't knows better, I'd says that fox fancied ya."

Sarah grimaced and shook her head. That thought was wrong on more levels than she could count.

"I might wants to come through meself, out of boredom," he then said.

"You, bored?"

"Kings on vacation, he is."

This information struck Sarah as odd. Perhaps it merely was coincidental that both of them should be out of town at the same exact moment. Of course it was coincidental, she chided herself. Where had that wandering thought come from? In the past nine years she had only given and received one dry "hello" and a very neutral birthday card when she turned twentyone. While both occasions had been polite, they had rendered her quite helpless when she went to bed. She had suffered from hot flashes and some very inexplicable dreams involving peaches.

She cleared her throat. "Oh. Well." She cleared her throat a second time. "You can't come through leisurely. It's out of the question right now. I have to concentrate on my work."

Hoggle pursed his lips and gave her a shrewd look. After a moment he shrugged. "Al's right, but at the first sign of trouble,"

"I'll call." She touched the glass again and his image faded.

After collecting the rest of her baggage and emptying the cooler contents into the cupboards and refrigerator respectively, Sarah went back into the main room. She needed the perfect environment for her imagination to thrive. Her first thought was to utilize the fire place. There was a coffee table with a few knick knacks and a very comfy arm chair. Clearing the coffee table she centered it in front of the fire place and then maneuvered the arm chair just to the side. Perfect. She could gaze lazily at the flames and find her characters dancing their story in its depths. Of course there wasn't a fire to stare longingly into.

"Alright," she said giving the hearth a challenging glare. "How hard can it be to light a fire?"

Outside she was surprised to find the sun sinking below the horizon. The air had gone from chilly to decidedly cold. By the time she was in and out of the wood shed with basket full of wood her fingers were chilled. Fifteen minutes later she was warming them against a pleasant fire. She smiled, pleased with her accomplishment. With the laptop out on the coffee table and a bottle of water near by, she felt ready to have a long conversation with her keyboard. Fifteen minutes later, she found herself playing solitaire.

Next came a seat with a view of the woods to the side of the house. She could just see the bend in the road. It should have inspired a blind man. Sarah spent a half hour doing nothing more productive than attempting to count tree trunks. She glanced at a clock: five o'clock wasn't too early to begin fixing dinner.

As the stove warmed Sarah poked around a large bookcase wondering what she could find to inspire herself. There was an odd sound system that proved to be hooked up to a satellite radio. Soon the house was swelling with music, moody numbers from the Air Born Toxic Event to emotional ballads by Muse. She danced her way through dinner.

She had to be honest with herself: she needed to just relax and let it happen. The dancing had helped. She no longer felt self-conscientious about being in somebody else's house and using her aunt's things. Tonight was hers, to think about whatever she so desired.

In the master bath she drew a hot bubble bath and discovered that the ambiguous remote controlled the sound system and the lighting. She was about to strip out of her under garments when she noticed the shutters behind the bath tub. They were as long as they were wide. Reaching around the bath she pulled open one of the sides: a large field stretched out behind the cabin. The dried grass glowed surreally by the light of the moon and stars. The stars! The heavens opened up revealing a vast treasure trove of diamonds. From the bath tub one could recline and count the stars. She hesitated for a moment. Being naked before an open window was a bit unnerving, yet again she was in the middle of no where. Using the remote she dimmed the lights, finished undressing, and climbed into the warm water.

She had just begun telling herself a little story about a young girl taking a moon light walk when she saw the large bird swoop to a near by tree. It startled her. The bird swooped again and landed closer to the cabin. It was an owl.

At first she scrambled to collect as much of the bubbles as possible to cover herself. Then the bird hooted and did nothing more. For several horrific seconds Sarah had been convinced that the Goblin King was stalking her in owl form and had witnessed her nakedness. Darn Hoggle for inserting his name in her subconscious. She squinted through the panes of glass: this owl was black and brown, not the gold and white his majesty preferred. "Wouldn't that have been a fine howdy-do?" she asked out loud followed by a heavy sigh. "Practically ten years of nothing only to get an eye full of my lady parts." She reclined in the water again. "Of course it would all be seeing and no touching." Brave in the fact this was not the goblin king she raised a bubble soaked leg. Her skin glistened in the moon light. "To see all this and not touch it; oh that would gall you!" She flexed her toes and let the limb sink beneath the surface again. "Of course," she said her tone turning thoughtful. "it wouldn't be much fun without the touching."

To her recollection the goblin king had only ever touched her hand and the left side of her waist. The contact had been innocent enough, leading her in a waltz, but it had sent darts of pleasure throughout her body. The man was packaged allurement. From the revealing clothes to the long blond locks to his startling eyes, he radiated desire. Sarah sank further into the water, awkward and embarrassed at her lewd thoughts.

The owl hooted.

"Of course it wasn't all about sex," she snapped as if the bird had spoken directly to her. "At least not for me. I can't speak for him. A man who appreciates an opinionated woman is needful at any age." She paused and examined some items near the tub. She selected a pumice stone and set to work on her feet. "I wasn't counting on him having such a fragile ego though. I mean, who cares? Alright I won the game, got my brother back, but does that signify that I never want to see him again? Why should it matter? And what was the deal with that birthday card anyway?" she demanded of her nocturnal visitor.

The owl flapped a wing and resettled on the branch.

Sarah continued softer this time, "You were the first man to admire my strong will and quite honestly there really hasn't been anyone since. You knew how to goad me, then take the heat, and continue to smile through the whole ordeal."

She realized that both of her feet were a bit tingly. In her rant she scrubbed them with the pumice stone to vigorously, the skin now was raw.

"If you know his nibs," she said to the owl. "tell him that Sarah Williams wouldn't mind a few words with him." She popped the plug, grabbed a towel, and got out of the bath. "Right, because all the owls hang out at some club- 'The Mouse'n Claw'- or some such nonsense. It's just a bird."


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The better part of the morning was spent one moment pacing the wood floors, the next staring at her laptop. She at least had described her reaction to the stars last night. But then her mind had gotten hung up on one little phrase, "beneath the stars." One could walk beneath stars, stand, jump, skip if they so desired; one could do an infinitely number of things under stars. Yet none of them sounded quite right. With a frustrated sigh, she found her coat, picked up the walking stick, stuck a water bottle in her back pocket and headed outside.

The dirt road that led back to the main thorough far seemed like the best place to start walking. There were clouds far off on the horizon and a deep chill in the air. Perhaps that storm Mr Gaudfrey had mentioned was closer on the forecast. As cold as it already was the right storm could easily bring snow.

A mile down the road there was wooden post indicating a trail that was supposed to lead to a stream. Without hesitating she turned off the road and entered the woods. The forest floor was a carpet of yellows and reds. Sarah was surprised to hear the hum of electricity. There hadn't been any massive antennas or power poles sticking up out of landscape. Maybe someone was camping near by with a generator. She was glad for her walking stick. The humming ebbed and flowed as she walked, at times so faint she thought it had gone, and other moments so loud she felt it in her bones. When she heard the sound of running water, she picked up her pace, wanting to hear something other than the hum.

The path ended abruptly almost at the water's edge. Sun light bounced off a wide, shallow stream, warming her face. The hum was drowned out by the sound of the water. For a moment she stood there breathing in the damp earth, admiring the natural beauty, and then her moment was gone. Several yards away, calf deep in the icy water, stood a man. His brown breaches were splashed with water and his poet's shirt lay loose on his shoulders.

Sarah shuffled back a step, her heart pounding in her chest.

He appeared to be performing a moving meditation or T'ai chi. His arms swept round as he turned his upper body. The sun shimmered off gold wrist cuffs. The blonde head turned following the rest of the body's motion. The man stopped mid-pose, resembling a kung fu master, at the sight of Sarah on the beach. Jareth, king of the goblins, dropped his arms, and exclaimed, "What the bogwater are you dong here?"

Startled by not only his presence, but by the sound of his voice Sarah stammered. "Walking," she finally said recovering her self. "More importantly what are you doing here?"

"Standing," he replied putting his hands to his hips.

Sarah passed a hand over her forehead. She needed to collect her thoughts. His presence would certainly not be cohesive to her isolation, no distractions policy.

They glared at each other.

Suddenly Jareth threw his head back and laughed. "The universe must be toying with us! The odds of the two of us finding each other amidst such seclusion must be ridiculous." He relaxed his stance. "You have caught me in respite. And you?"

"Pretty much the same," she replied. She was smiling despite it all. For the first time in many years she was able to see him again. As always he never looked older than twentyfive. At least until one looked into his eyes: that was where he hid his age. Those irises were ancient. Sarah felt a shiver run down her spine. "Aren't you cold?" she asked indicating the water.

"Don't worry about me: I'm in my winter skin," he said simply.

Sara was struck with the mental image of Jareth swimming about like a great walrus. The extra blubber and bulbous nose were hideous at best. She managed to control her voice. "Oh. Well. Good."

He laughed again. "One of the many benefits of my ilk, very adaptable. Come- my things are further along the shore. Join me." He kept to the water where the silt was free of pebbles and debris.

Well Sarah Williams, she thought as she skirted a bush, never take an owl for an owl again.

She had certainly gotten exactly what she wished for. Jareth, the King of the Goblins was here and the two of them could have their much delayed talk. Now that she was face to face with him though she found that such words as interested, relationship, and feelings, sticking in her throat. It was like being in junior high again stealing glances at the cool boy you were majorly crushing on. Perhaps she could slip him a note: Do you like me, check the appropriate box. The piece of paper spattered with hearts and stars. She cleared her throat again.

At another beach there was a blanket laid out, a pair of boots leaned half hazardly against eachother, and a clothe sack. Jareth stepped nimbly from water to blanket. The word "breathe" was suddenly lost on Sarah as she witnessed him bending over to retrieve a boot.

"I had heard that you were on vacation," she said. "Never thought I'd find you here. Are you staying near by?"

He shot her a quizzical glance. "Yes," he replied. "I have a place a bit further down stream."

"I thought there wasn't a neighbor so close. Didn't see anything on my drive up."

"That's because it's not on this plain," he explained with a grin.

Magic. They were inside a thin spot in the veil where the two worlds could touch. "That would explain the humming," she said with a nod. Magic was a force and when it was activated, say by the presence of a certain fae king, it would reverberate much like electricity. Or so it was how Hoggle had attempted to explain it to her.

Jareth paused right before his right foot went into his boot. "You heard the humming?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "Hard not to."

"And you still pressed forward?"

"It might have been annoying, but hardly distressing. I figured it would eventually fade."

Jareth's eyes scanned her whole being. From the top of her head to the tips of her shoes she felt his eyes take her in. He might as well as dunked her in cold water from the stream: her skin broke out in goose bumps. His eyes squinted. "The hum is a warning," he finally said. "Most animals, as well as people, pick up on it and know that they should keep a safe distance."

"Yeah, well, I'm no stranger to the wiles of magic remember," she said and gave him a leveled look.

He adjusted his boot and turned away. "I remember," he said quietly. Then with lighter tones, "So what brings you out here to the sanctuary of nature?"

She glanced around at the brightly painted leaves. "Inspiration. The city's no good to me right now."

He shook out the blanket. "I see."

The sun suddenly winked out as large clouds made their way from the horizon. The storm was on its way and Sarah had roughly a two mile walk back to the cabin. "I should be getting back," she said. Everything she had wanted to say, to discuss wouldn't come out. She looked at him. "Perhaps we'll meet again." It sounded lame, stupid; not the sort of thing a writer of romance novels should say.

"Perhaps," he said.

She turned to leave. So this was how her moment was going to end. A few pleasantries was a step up from hello; practically an upgrade from a greeting card. After this she probably wouldn't see him again. Back at the cabin she would probably confide in Hoggle and he'd be insensitive to her feminine feelings. Her hand re-gripped the walking stick. No. She looked back. "Jareth!" she called.

He hadn't moved. He stood there in the grey light gazing at the water.

Her heart was running a marathon. "Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

"Sarah," he said, raising his gaze to hers. "It would be my pleasure."


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

She had made it clear that it wasn't going to be anything fancy; cold cuts on the bread from Mr. Gaudfrey was the extent of her planned dinners. That and a bag of frozen chicken tenders, but that hardly felt appropriate to set before a king. After rummaging through several cupboards she found an orange table clothe and then had managed to borrow two candles from other rooms. It was a simple yet elegant setting; just shy of being goofy. Sarah shook her head at the table.

Outside the wind had picked up. It gave an unearthly howl as it moved through the trees. The cabin creaked. The dead were rising and roaming about this evening.

Sarah went to the radio. Thoughts about soul sucking zombies and ravaged pets ala Pet Cemetery walking about were hardly fitting. At least her imagination was switched on. That had to be a good sign. The display screen glowed blue as she flickered through selections. The music had to be charming, not seductive. She was fairly certain she wasn't ready for seduction. A description that read "The Golden Age" gave her Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday.

Now put your imagination to good use, she told herself facing the room. She needed to change her clothes, but she was unsure of the message she wanted to send. A nice tshirt meant conversation at the table. A simple sweater meant lounging on the couch after dinner. These cause and effect scenarios meant perfect sense in her mind even if they lacked sufficient research. What said: sweep me up into your arms carry me to the bedroom in a masculine display that will render me putty in your hands? Too much imagination, she decided. In the end she wore a tshirt and a cardigan; an outfit that promised conversation and minimal lounging.

At a quarter to seven there was a knock on the door. There would be the flutter of a cape, glitter falling like rain, glimmers of iridescent blues and blacks- Sarah relived that first encounter in her mind as her hand touched the door knob. Instead Jareth appeared, normal. Not that normal wasn't still appealing- well tailored dark slacks, a crisp white shirt paired with a vest all made for a very sharp outfit. The finale element was the only item to be found with any amount of shine: a black paneled front with some sort of red floral design.

"Good evening," he said with a slight bow.

She dropped a whimsical curtsy. "Greetings. Please come in. It's freezing out there. Or are you still in your winter skin?" she asked a tad coyly.

He chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm stuck with it until the end of the cold season."

"So your skin literally changes with the seasons?" She closed the door.

He nodded. "Warm in winter, cooler in summer."

This was a new element. Her curiosity got the better of her. "May I?" She raised her hand.

With an obliging smile Jareth took her hand and held the palm to the side of his neck. At first it was the amount of heat that amazed her. With him close by there would be no need of a furnace or a fire. If any lounging did occur she would have to shed her cardigan. She said something in surprise that made him chuckle. It was only then that she realized he was holding her hand in place, quite at ease. He had soft hands.

"Is it ever uncomfortable?" she asked. "Too hot?"

"It's never bothered me."

She cleared her throat and let her hand slide to his shoulder. With a shrug she tried to hide just how delightful the warmth of his skin was. "Well, that is a handy talent," she said taking her hand away. "Let me get us something to drink."

A glass of water. A tall glass of cool water. She cracked the tops of two water bottles and poured their contents into drinking cups. "I did say it was nothing fancy," she remarked as she opened the refrigerator. The cold cuts were laid out on a large plate. The cool air helped clear her mind.

"Trust me anything is better than goblin cooking," he said. "As long as you're not planning on drowning our sandwiches in brown gravy, I'm sure it'll be delicious."

She set out a few condiments. "I've heard rumor of the brown gravy. Hoggle suggested it has more uses than culinary."

Jareth grimaced. "It's best not to know. Allow me." He took the meat from her and set it on the table.

When Sarah approached with their service in hand she saw that the candles were lit. She was certain that she had not done so her self. No, of course she hadn't. She had been distracted with the radio and changing her clothes. Jareth stood smiling holding onto one of the chairs. He seated her and then himself.

"So," he began as they assembled their sandwiches. "You said earlier that the city lacked inspiration for you. Having a bit of writer's block?"

"Try a hefty serving of," she replied with an eye roll. "There's a lot of pressure for me to do just as good if not better than the first time."

"Ah yes, your coming of age romance novel. It was quite good."

"You read it?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "We do have books in the Underground. I wanted to know how the Champion of the Labyrinth faired as a story teller. You've got a bit of mustard on your cheek."

Before she could react he reached across with a napkin and dabbed the smear away. Was it just her imagination or was he dropping some very loud hints? Of course what those hints literally meant or even implied were lost on her. Instead she murmured a "Thank you." And then to cover up her awkwardness said, "Well, I'm glad you read it as it will probably the one and only of its kind. A Sarah Williams' one hit wonder."

After a pause where they both ate at their own leisure he looked up at her. "You know, Sarah, have you ever… No, never mind," he said shaking his head.

"What?" she pressed.

"After nine years this is going to sound mildly obsessive, but have you ever thought about writing our story?"

Sarah blinked in surprise. "Our story?"

"Yes. How you came to be in the Underground and all that transpired. After all it does have all of the right elements, the fantasy, the supernatural."

She scrunched her face up in thought. "I would have to makeup the romance bit." It had been an honest observation, at least from her point of view. Considering her age and being totally overwhelmed by what was transpiring Sarah had long since comforted herself by believing she had embellished much of had happened betwixt her and the king.

"I beg your pardon?" he snapped peevishly.

"What? I mean…" Her voice trailed. "I would have to. Romance is part of the subject I write."

He fell back in his chair. "And our story lacked romance?"

"I, I don't know." His tone was all most wounded. "I was so young," she explained. "I didn't want to assume that what I felt was really what was happening. And then after everything, we basically stopped talking to each other."

"I didn't think you wanted to see me."

She looked down at her bread crumb littered plate. "I didn't think you wanted to see me either."

She felt she had opened her mouth and inserted her whole foot. What had been an easy going dinner had now turned tense. This was not how she had pictured them talking.

Jareth pushed away from the table. "It has been lovely evening," he said and stood. "But I believe I have distracted you enough."

She had ruined it. Her chance was yet again slipping through her fingers. She wished she had some excuse such as dessert or coffee to press on him to make him stay. She stood. "Thank you for coming," she said lamely.

Silent she walked him to the front door. Maybe she should start crying, or perhaps begin yelling obscenities about her stupidity. She heard him mumble a goodnight and then the door was shut. Now she could either lean against the wood and feel miserable or she could go clean up the dinner mess and still feel miserable.

She had just decided to ignore either option, and head towards the master bath with all of its bubbles and window views when there was a knock at the door. Opening it she saw Jareth. "I am immortal," he said right away. He looked from the door step then back up to her face. For a moment he seemed to struggle with something and then plunged ahead, "When one lives forever time and age, they become irrelevant. I never saw your age."

She leaned on the door frame. "Ok." This felt like a revelation, like some marvelous soul bearing. She nodded her head. "So what does that mean?"

Again that inward struggle. "It means I was trying to woo a woman when in fact I was holding only a girl."

"Oh."

He eyed her curiously. "Does that make me a pervert?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No. No, it definitely does not make you a pervert. Thank you for explaining it."

"I felt you should know."

"Say, why don't you come back tomorrow and distract me some more? After nine years we have a lot of catching up to do. Who knows, maybe our story isn't finished yet."


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

"So if I am going to tell our story right," said Sarah as she leaned back against the tree trunk. "I am going to have to ask you some questions; get some personal info."

They were outside in the early afternoon sun. Initially Sarah had gone out with her laptop to inquire of the leaves and patches of frost how life in the woods was fairing and if either of them had seen anything supernatural as of late. Jareth had found her sitting on a blanket to ward off the damp, her laptop sitting idly on her lap. Sarah watched him for a moment prior to putting forth her proposal. His outfit was much the same as the night before except this time he wore a startling blue vest that played up his eyes and made his hair even farer. He could very well be the wood elf that entices a young girl deep into the forest. Of course, was he an elf? No, that he wasn't. Then what was the Goblin King exactly?

From where he stood reading a tattered book he had pulled from his cloth sack, he hemmed and seemed to think deeply on her proposition. "Well, for starters, I like long walks on the beach and enjoy quiet evenings reading." He grinned.

"Noted for the next quarters fantasy want adds," she replied dryly. "And under the heading 'species' what would you prefer: fae or simply unknown?"

"I like the mystery 'unknown' begets, but I wouldn't want just anyone to apply." He was far too amused. "What do you think I am?"

"I know that you're fae, a sort of wingless fairy-,"

"Hold on," he interrupted, dropping his book into his bag. "Fae, yes; fairy, no. All of my ilk are known as the fae, but me." He pointed at himself. "I am neither fairy, pixie, brownie, sprite,"

"Ok."

"Will O'the Wisp, nymph, or elf for that matter."

She smiled placidly. "So what are you then?"

"I," he said and paused dramatically. "Am a magician."

Sarah recalled the floating orbs that he had frequently used to cast spells or cause illusions. At one point he had simply called them "crystals", but Sarah had seen them float like bubbles, their thin membranes exploding at the faintest touch. The urge to ask him to show her one was strong. They had been filled with her deepest wants, her hidden desires. Such things would prove to be delicious distractions.

As if reading her thoughts Jareth stretched out an arm and after a gentle flick of his wrist one of the dainty orbs appeared in his palm. Sarah fought with herself to either run screaming from things she wasn't sure were true, or grab at it hungrily. "I remember those," she said quietly. "Do all magicians use them?"

"No." He let it roll to the tips of his fingers. "It's what you might call my gimmick." With subtle exhale, he sent the orb floating towards her.

Entranced Sarah watched it approach. Gingerly she reached out her fingers.

"It won't pop," he assured her with a hint of a smirk.

"Your gimmick." Her voice was full of awe. "So you don't actually need them?" At contact the orb bounced back defying physics.

"No."

"So you're a conjuror-,"

"Hold on again." He blew air out sharply. When he spoke again his tone was annoyed, "Humans and their blasted synonyms. I'll have to give you a crash course in Underground class systems. Much like there are governors, mayors, presidents, while they are all rulers in their own right, they are not the same." He reached his hand down, stretching as far as it would go. "Tricksters, conjurors," his hand moved up as if indicating brackets. "Magicians, wizards."

The orb obscured by a tree, was enough to break Sarah's enthrallment. She blinked and looked curiously at Jareth. "I would have thought that someone with your disposition would have striven after the highest rank."

"Who says I haven't? I am quite powerful Sarah Williams."

"I don't doubt that. So why aren't you a wizard?"

He sat down next to her and leaned against the same tree. "Proved to be too messy." He brought his bag around and began rummaging through it. "A magician can create illusions, but more often than not what he has created is tangible." From the bag he brought forth a wedge of cheese and two apples. "But a wizard, now he can get inside your mind. Make you think you're eating heartily when in fact you are consuming air." He took a bite from one of the apples and offered her the other.

If it was nothing more than air it was the sweetest breath she had ever taken. "So this is magician work and this apple is real?"

"I was feeling a bit peckish," he replied.

"Give me an example of wizard work."

His two tone pupils stared at her for a moment. Sarah understood that she was inviting him into her head, which as far as intimacy went was a form of consummation. "Close your eyes," he told her. "What did I give you?"

The object was cold and slick. "An ice cube."

"And now?"

The small form abruptly turned coal hot. She gasped and flung it away from her. "Ouch! What did you give me?" She glared at him accusatorily.

"Nothing." He took her hand and held it up to her eyes. "I never touched you."

She stared wonderingly at her hand. "That is intensely weird."

"I was asked one too many times to induce harm. I may have my goblin ways, but I could never cause physical harm. Every once in a while I practice it though." His face turned playful. "For fun. Take a look around Sarah."

Turning her head Sarah saw that the cabin and the surrounding woods had dissolved into a shimmering substance. Spotted throughout were wax laden candelabrums and sparkling tapestries. The ballroom from her youth was before her. A sort of sad joy filled her. She stood. "It has been nine years since I have seen this room. And it is every bit as beautiful as I remember it being."

"My greatest accomplishment as a magician," he said from behind her.

She remembered how solid the floor had been and the crash that had echoed when she broke the wall. This place had been very real. "The amount of energy and time you must have put into it…" Her voice trailed. Everything about this place had been real.

"The better part of thirteen hours," he said.

She turned around to see him, to find out what expression he wore; to know whether or not this place invoked any kind of strong emotion. She found him standing in the iridescent blue tailcoat and diamond flecked cravat that he had worn that fateful night. While his sudden change surprised her, she was more startled by the realization that she was in the massive silver and white ball gown. The weight of the material rested on her shoulders and she could feel the pinch of the corset around her waist.

Then his arms around were around her, pulling her against him. She swore she could feel his heart beating when she touched his chest. The heat from his winter skin burned through everything to encase her cocoon like, safe and secure. He was masculine. He was alluring. He was gentle. There was a rush of anticipation and apprehension in knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Without hesitation they kissed each other. He was needful. He was generous. He was magic.

Sarah blinked and felt an odd tilt to the world. It was as if every image and sensation were being drained out of her being via her right eye. She blinked again and shook her head. Jareth stood next to the tree an odd expression on his face. The ballroom was gone.

Afraid of the truth she timidly asked, "What was that?"

Jareth swallowed. He stood rigidly still.

"Jareth?" she pressed with a hint of agitation.

"Sarah I cry your pardon," he said, his voice tight. "When you asked me...And I." He cleared his throat. "Apparently the mental link hadn't fully severed."

Sarah closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath.

He said, "I can apologize a whole lot more profusely if you like; if it'll help."

She looked at him: he seemed to be taking it all in with just as much awkwardness as she was. "That depends," she said. "Was all of that you or me?"

He considered his reply. "Both?"

"That's a good answer."

While it was still embarrassing to know he had been made privy to extremely private thoughts, it was comforting to know he had similar ones of his own. "So," she said trying to shake the tension. "How was it for you?"

He choked on a laugh. "Good, very good."

"It was pretty special," she concurred. "Amazing even."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again they had taken on a darker quality. "Sexy," he stated.

She nodded in agreement. "Incredibly sexy. As far as distractions go, you're the only one I want."

Stepping away from the tree he came and stood in front of her. "I'm the only distraction I want you to have," he said. He touched her hair. "Can we continue our story? Rewrite it a bit to give your reader's a happy ending?"

The female side of her brain was thinking of a million ways in which "happy ending" could be attained, while the writer side of her mind was mentally editing out all of the voyeuristic qualities of sharing their story.

Jareth raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. "Sarah Williams," he said tersely, as if all of her thoughts had been laid bear to him. Again. "My, my, I may have to lay to rest all of my wizarding skills. You could make a goblin blush." He mocked disbelief.

She rolled her eyes knowing full well he was having similar thoughts. She wanted him here, where it all was real. Where he was real.


	6. Chapter 6

_Perhaps it's odd, but often times when I'm writing it is the voice of Stephen Fry narrating. If that is going to make reading love scenes awkward for you, I suggest blasting any and all Meatloaf love songs while you read the following. He inspired alot of what is to follow. "Oh I would do anything for you love..."_

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><p><strong>6<strong>

He surprised her by taking a step away from her. No more than surprised: startled her. Perhaps even caused her distress. If it wasn't for the amused, grinning like a Cheshire cat expression he wore his actions probably would have worried her. Sarah asked him what he was about. "Something spectacular," he replied. "Sarah Williams I have a proposition for you."

Proposition. The word conjured up everything from as scandalous as prostitution to as dangerous as a bank heist. Everything in between was a blur of fast cars, fire works, and clips from Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" music video. She stared quizzically at him.

"I am going to leave you now and ask your permission to return tonight."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"To validate what I'm fairly sure I all ready know." He kissed the top of her hand. Her skin tingled. "I want to share something with you; an experience that we will both glean much knowledge from."

He ran a hand through her hair. If agreeing to these odd premises meant seeing more of him, being near him, then yes, she would agree to it. "I hardly understand," she said. Her body and her mind were having a hard time accepting the sudden change in their circumstances. Seconds ago they had been close, reveling in their shared vision of romance and longing. Now he was asking permission to leave her. She took a deep breath. "But if it's important to you, then yes, of course. Should I make dinner?"

His fingers played with the strands of her hair. "I'll see to everything. All you have to do is be there to answer the door. And to wear something feminine."

She wished she had packed a dress. Instead she made do with a green peasant top and blue jeans. The color of the top enhanced her eyes, which was a compliment to her femininity. It pleased her to know that it would please Jareth.

As she brushed her hair she found she had all of the nervous ticks that were a prelude a date: repeatedly she tucked hair behind her right ear and rubbed her lips together fearful that her lip gloss was flaking. Indeed thinking of this evening as a date seemed perfectly normal. He had asked to meet her again, there was going to be food involved, and as the result of their shared vision they both knew that there was some untested chemistry between them.

He arrived tonight in a deep purple colored vest that depending on the light would change to either a precious ruby or midnight black. He had his cloth bag hanging from a hand. After flashing a smile he moved into the living room. "Yes the table in front of the hearth will do nicely. Sarah I promised you I would take care of all of tonight's necessities." He dropped the bag on the coffee table. Turning he offered her his hands. "Sit with me by the fire."

"So should I ask the obvious: what's in the bag?"

They dropped several cushions on the floor to sit on. Jareth had her sit so that she was across from him.

"Everything," was his elusive reply. "As you no doubt have gathered this bag is enchanted. What you probably haven't guessed is that it will give you whatever you desire."

"Anything?"

"Provided it fits through the opening."

He told her to check the bag, poke it and prod it. It felt empty, it looked empty.

He then said, "Think of the most random item you could possibly want."

Without giving it much consideration she blurted out the first thing, "A tiki man. A mini-tiki man."

He smiled. "You can be more specific if you like."

"All right then, a mini-tiki man who resembles Elvis Presley."

His hand over the bag hovered. His smile that moments ago had been teasing now morphed into a pucker. "Elvis?" he asked.

She sniggered. "I saw something like it in a curio shop once. I always fancied to myself that it would have been a wonderful conversation piece."

"Here's to wonderful conversations then." For a moment he rummaged through the bag as if pushing aside other stored items and then pulled forth a wooden statue not more than a foot in height. The little tiki man sported that infamous hair curl and a ukulele.

Sarah clapped her hands in delight. Taking it from him, she placed it on the table. "Oh he is charming. Shame he can't do a thing about dinner though. What food does your magic carpet bag carry?"

"Whatever you like. What cravings does Sarah Williams have this evening?" He leaned against the chair and rested on his elbows.

Sarah fought a squirm at the suggestive undertones of his question. Instead she concentrated on her stomach: she was hungry and tired of cold cuts on bread. Jareth said she could be very specific. "Fried chicken," she said. "Home style with just a hint of black pepper."

The room filled with the scent of flour coming freshly crisped from hot oil. Sarah leaned forward and stopping Jareth's hand from reaching into the bag said, "Cold fried chicken." It was one of her favorite left over foods that she tended to eat with the refrigerator door wide open.

The smell of fried chicken dwindled some what. Jareth pulled out a plate with a napkin thrown over it. The covering removed there was six pieces of cold fried chicken. The bag also produced more plates, cutlery and napkins as well as cups and saucers. "Hot tea or coffee?" he asked.

"Coffee, please. With vanilla creamer."

Jareth set about serving them, remarking that her specifics were bordering on demands. She replied that her level of expectations should come as no surprise to him, but that she promised not to be exhausting.

As they ate it was eventually suggested that the radio be turned on. Other food was suggested and brought forth with the same ease: a side of mashed potatoes, a bowl of salad. Then it was decided that the fire needed more wood and that the main lights should be turned off. Then fruit appeared: strawberries and melons.

Sarah leaned back and sighed happily satisfied and full. She looked at across the small table at Jareth who was currently watching the fire dance. He too looked content. Catching her gaze he smiled at her. "I have something for you," he said sitting up and reaching for the bag. "Earlier today we were both rather reminiscent and it made me think of this."

To her surprise he brought forth a thin hair clip. It was dark wood with small copper hearts running along its spine. "My princess clip!" she exclaimed. "My goodness I thought I had lost this thing years ago."

"Not lost. More like misplaced. By me." He set it on the table and slid it towards her.

She gave him a leveled look. "That's border line creepy you know." Still she found herself smiling.

"There are far worse things I could have taken as mementos," he replied. "I figured you wouldn't miss one little hair bauble."

"Of all the- Really Jareth, what a silly thing to take." She picked it up. Gathering the sides of her hair back she worked the clip in.

"A memento of happier times," he went on his voice turning thoughtful. "Of when you would come to the park with that ridiculously over stuffed dog of yours in your equally ridiculous, yet some how charming princess costume. Your hair would be done up with fake flowers and that little heart clip." He smiled. "It still suits you."

"So is that how you like to remember me?" she asked.

"I liked how unabashed you were. Now tell me yours."

She tapped the side of her head. "No more mental link?"

He waved a hand at their coffee cups and they at once were refreshed and hot again. "It severed right after I left earlier."

Good then he couldn't pry or make her blush. Her first thought was of the ballroom. How romantic it all had been. How beautiful she had felt. But really that had been all about her. When she thought of Jareth, really thought of him, her mind kept focusing in on one particular item. She touched the bag, thought hard, and then reached inside. Out came a cycle shaped pendant. "You had me and Hoggle cornered," she said, letting the pendant dangle by its leather strap. "in some tunnels and you were asking me how I was enjoying your labyrinth. If I wasn't trying to match your stare, I was focusing on the odd pendant I saw in the folds of your shirt." She laid it on the table. "I knew at that moment I could have done just about anything you asked me to. And then you set the Cleaners on me," she added tersely. "I liked you and hated you all in the span of two breaths."

"The Cleaners," he said with irritation. "They were more for Hoggle's benefit than yours. The little scab fancied you. I would never have let any harm come to you. What's so funny?" he asked as Sarah lapsed into a fit of giggles.

She couldn't help herself. Hoggle thought Sir Dydimus fancied her. Jareth thought Hoggle fancied her. What next? Was her good knight going to express concern that the eye fungi had taken a shine to her? "Perhaps it's better off if you not know," she managed to say. "Let's just say I am well liked in the Underground." She took a sip of her coffee and collected herself. "You really have taken care of everything tonight Jareth: the food, the nostalgia, the conversation."

"Just channeling the tiki man," he said playfully.

"Still, I wish I could properly thank you."

"Your company has been payment enough. That and the satisfaction of knowing I may have eased your writer's block."

He didn't need to know that she hadn't written more than a paragraph these last two days. There had been that bit about her reaction to the stars and that was about it. Suddenly she understood the phrase, "beneath the stars." She told him to stand up. "I know what I can share with you," she said. She took his hand, his warm fingers closed around hers. Through the master bedroom, she stopped in the master bath.

"This is a bathroom," he said poignantly. "Are you suggesting we bathe together?"

"Ha, no. At least not at this very moment. Maybe later. Maybe." She bit the inside of her lip and told herself to not start babbling. Babbling was an unattractive thing. She opened the shutters behind the tub. Having closed the door to block out any light pollution she urged him to join her. "You have to see this," she said. "It's better if you sit down."

The tub was garden style stretching out in a wide yawn. They were able to sit side by side with foot room. Their shoulders rubbed and their elbows knocked in a pleasant way. She directed his attention to the sky. The heavens did not disappoint. Any traces of the storm from yesterday were gone and the universe was laid bear.

"I sort of stumbled onto this view my first night here," she said, drawing a leg up and resting an arm on her bent knee.

"That is spectacular." For a moment they both just star gazed. "We're choosing the path between the stars," he murmured.

Sarah looked at him. "What did you say?"

"Apparently I'm feeling a little reminiscent still." He smiled briefly. Taking her hand and focusing on the sky he said, "I'll paint you mountains of gold, I will spin you Valentine evenings, and though we are strangers til now, we're choosing the path between the stars."

That was what people did under stars: they made love to each other. Sarah knew it to be truth as she knew oxygen gave her life. The writer in her rapidly flipped through a series of scenes that involved kissing that included positions and locations. Some how every thought turned black and white and lasted only thirty seconds a piece which felt more classic Hollywood than cheap porno. Of course that was what "making love" had meant to the Golden Age: intense, passionate kissing. No more. She took an unsteady breath, and then plunged into the final verse, "I'll lay my love beneath the stars."

He let go of her hand and lazily ran his fingers along her palm. It left streams of warmth over her skin. "While I never pictured a bath tub while thinking those words, I still like the notion." He met her eyes. "Sarah Williams, I think I'm going to kiss you."

The sound of the stereo was completely drowned out by the sound of her heart. "Ok," she managed weakly.

This was going to be their conversation. Here was the explanation for the goading, the flirting, the distance, the blasted birthday card, all wrapped up and presented in a simple package. While the wrapping paper hadn't been expensive or glamorous, the contents were precious. Jareth the Goblin King was going to kiss her, the unassuming mortal.

His mouth was hot. It raised her personal thermostat far quicker than she knew to be physically possible. His hand was on her waist, providing equal leverage to draw her to him and pull him self near. She couldn't decide where to put her one free hand. Part of her felt like a fumbling teenager and her subconscious berated her with Meat Loaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light." While the other part of her wanted to think of her self as some divine love goddess who was going to leave this man breathless.

Instead she pulled back. Or rather she tried to. His hand on her hip held tight. "Don't move," he whispered. Their faces brushed and when he exhaled she felt her hair tickle her neck. He shifted his weight and she found her leg curved around him. "Right here, right now, I would do anything you asked me to."

Maybe she could just be Sarah Williams. The woman he wanted. "I want to live our story," she said. "Can you manage that?"

"Piece of cake," he said with a smirk. "Do you understand what you ask?"

She shifted her weight and brought her body around to sit across his midsection, her legs bent under her and against the sides of the tub. His head dropped back over the edge of the tub to gaze up at her. "I've had nine years to understand what that means." His jaw muscles tensed as she ran her fingers along his neck.

"Kiss me," he told her.

She kissed him deeply. "Do you understand what I'm asking?"

Holding her he sat up. "Sarah there has never been nor will there ever be any one other than you. If you asked to be my queen, my wife I would be powerless to refuse you."

Holding his face she smiled. "Yes," she said. "Yes and yes."


End file.
